


The In Thing

by wynnebat



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Book 6, Domestic Discipline, F/M, Femdom, No Sex, Paddling, Punishment, ambiguous consent issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 17:46:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11445888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wynnebat/pseuds/wynnebat
Summary: Jerome gets a refresher on high society trends.





	The In Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in the middle of book 6, no spoilers for the rest of the series because I haven't actually finished it yet. 
> 
> Consent issues tag refers to the fact punishments are an established dynamic in the fic (and Esme doing whatever she wants is an established dynamic in the book) and Jerome accepts them, but this is in no way enthusiastic consent.

"Sleep tight, children," Jerome called after the Baudelaire orphans, watching them walk away towards their rooms. He smiled at the you too and the shriek he got in return. They really were good kids. Turning to Esme, he asked, "Where do you want the parsley soda?"

"Six bottles in my office, two in our bedroom, and the rest in my favorite kitchen. Do be quick about it."

"Of course," Jerome agreed, pecking her on the cheek.

Except for this morning—and he really didn't know what had gotten into him—it had been a very long time since Jerome had argued with Esme. She'd set the terms of their relationship at the very start; he could follow them or leave. He'd started out years and years ago as an assistant at Esme's financial company. Esme—Ms. Squalor, to him back then—had plucked him out of the office pool of assistance when her former PA died under mysterious circumstances. He'd worked for her for a couple years, until she'd asked if he wanted to assist her in other matters as well. Eventually, she'd married him and Jerome had become a more behind the scenes assistant as well as a husband, fulfilling the tasks she needed done outside of her job as a financial adviser.

And now here he was, a guardian to three orphans. He'd never thought of himself as a much of a father figure to anyone—Esme had never been interested in having children, even when having one of one's one was in—but this wasn't bad. They were easy children, polite and friendly. The little one didn't even need him to change her diapers; that task was handled by the oldest Baudelaire. The whole thing wasn't bad at all, except for the part where because of the siblings, he'd disobeyed his wife.

Jerome did as she asked, leaving the parsley sodas in Esme's favorite haunts, and took two into the bedroom with him. His heart thumped loudly in his chest when he saw the paddle resting on the bed, but he wasn't surprised.

"Do you want me naked?" he asked.

Sometimes Esme was so displeased that she didn't even want to see his body, but at least today she said, "Yes, get undressed. You have no idea how much trouble I go through to keep certain things in. I may as well appreciate it."

"I appreciate it— you. You know it, my dear," Jerome said, stripping down from his pinstripe suit until there was nothing at all to protect his skin.

"You claim you do. And then you disobey me, argue with me, and in front of those little brats. I think you need a refresher on how we do things here on Dark Avenue."

"I'm sorry, Esme," said Jerome, but he'd already bent over the side of the bed. Apologies were both in and appreciated, but they wouldn't do anything for him.

Esme patted his cheek with her long, sharp nails. "That's nice. Now, after every strike, you're going to list something that's in. If you run out of things before I get bored, I won't be happy."

"Yes, m'a—" He yelped as the first hit connected. The paddle was made of hard, unyielding wood that matched Esme's personality perfectly. "Parsley soda. It's in."

"Too easy, but I'll let it pass," Esme sniffed. She prodded at his cheek with the paddle, teasing out a groan from him. And then she struck again, hitting the same spot and only waiting for him to speak before paddling him again.

Candy apples, leaving tips, sunflower seeds, neon wallpaper, iguanas… Jerome thought hard on every little detail Esme had said to him in the past weeks, hoping that he didn't name something that wasn't in anymore by chance. Even worse than disobeying Esme was disobeying the whims of their society, to which Esme was completely attuned.

It hurt. It always hurt. The paddle was loud against his skin, and it's sound still rang in his head each time he mumbled out another word. Twenty strikes in, he was panting, whimpering, unable to think clearly when all he could think of is the pain in his thighs and buttocks. If only paddling were out—but that would only mean something else would be in. Esme's brief flirtation with caning had been brutal.

A couple strikes after he'd finally lost count, Esme paused for his words but none came out.

"Well?"

He was married to the city's sixth most important financial adviser, why couldn't he just remember more of what was in, even though everything hurt and hurt and—"Orphans! Orphans are in."

Esme patted his buttocks, pinching his heater, aching skin lightly. "You're right. For now, orphans are in. I trust you'll remember everything else, too? Single-mindedness is never in, my love. You can't focus on these orphans while forgetting everything else that's important. Namely, me."

"You're always in, Esme," Jerome said, yelping as her pinch tightened. "I don't know what came over me earlier. I'm sorry."

"You really should be happy that forgiveness is in these days," she warned.

Jerome shivered. There'd been a month last year when forgiveness hadn't been in. He'd messed up early into the month, and then paid for it every night, and spent the days unable to sit down anywhere, except for when Esme forced him to join her at dinner.

"Turn over," Esme said, and Jerome did, wincing as his butt touched the bed.

The pinch of irritation was gone from her face, only a dark satisfaction left behind, so Jerome chanced leaning in and kissing her softly. "It won't happen again. You're the most important thing to me, not those orphans."

Her lips curled. "Good. Because, between you and me, orphans won't be in forever."

Jerome liked playing at being a father, but there were more important things in his life. Esme had rolled into his life like a tidal wave all those years ago, and Jerome was only a boat on her rough waters, staying up by the ocean's grace alone.

Picking up one of the bottles of parsley soda, Esme opened it and tipped it into Jerome's mouth. It tasted so good on his tongue after the cries she'd brought out from him. He hadn't understood its taste when he'd first tried it, but Esme had shown him the way. She was always good like that. Once finished drinking, Jerome rubbed his hands along Esme's waist. She was still clothed, but her skin under those thin pinstripe pants was warm under his hands.

"May I?" he asked, because sometimes after a punishment, the only thing Esme wanted more was his head between her thighs.

She patted his cheek. "You don't deserve to, not for arguing with me like that." Glancing down, she added, "I'm glad you're not hard, otherwise I'd have to bring my paddle out again. I don't need your dick poking me all night."

Swallowing, Jerome could only say, "You're right. Of course. I love you, Esme."

"I love you too. You have your good parts, sweetheart. You just need to stop allowing yourself to be led astray. Those orphans are a bad influence on you."

"I'll do better, I promise," Jerome said, leaning in for another kiss.

Despite her words, she must have gotten into a much better mood, because she indulged him for a little while, pulling away with a smile on her lips. Jerome turned the lights off and got into bed with her, curling around Esme and holding her gently. The position wasn't perfect for his aching buttocks and thighs, but he needed some contact, and Esme allowed it.

Against his better judgment, Jerome's thoughts fluttered toward the Baudelaires. Where would they go once orphans ceased to be in? But the night was long, and those thoughts were fleeting, and Jerome fell asleep to the soft pinch of Esme's fingernails against his still-hot skin.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Complete; no sequel planned.


End file.
